Yo, check the mic, one two, this is the boom-bap flow,

It's Wild Bill on the stage, the man you already know.

You sip so much tequila, your liver's gotta be sore,

You're not a mixologist, you're just thirsty for more.

You love the Niners, but your timing is truly a crime,

Dropping bad punchlines that waste everybody's time.

They called you best looking at camp, that's a low bar to clear,

Must've been dark in that cabin, or the mirror was unclear.

Wild Bill, you're a legend, but let's talk about the prize,

You won the Toilet Bowl bracket right before my very eyes.

The Cornballers champion, that's a title of shame,

You're the king of the losers, that's the end of your game.

So raise a glass of salt, man, you're the butt of the joke,

When the beat drops this hard, the margarita glass broke.